Two Steps From Hell
by FranGipani6181
Summary: The 100th annual Hunger Games - from four corners of the universe eight men will be brought together to fight to the death. They can't trust anyone...not even the one they hold closest...as fighting for their lives will bring out the darkest in them...and who knows what that will do? Minds will be changed. Hearts will be broken. Lives will be lost. *Superwhomerlock*
1. Prologue

"**Two Steps from Hell"  
Prologue**

**Disclaimer - None of the characters from any of the shows are mine. Also the basis for the idea is mapped out from Deductism's video on youtbe :P**

**WARNINGS - 'Graphic Depictions Of Violence' and 'Major Character Deaths' hence the rating of M.**

**AN - Inspired by an epic video made by 'Deductism' on youtube, I asked permission to write this and I am so happy that lovely Bex let me write this using her idea. ****So in short - this piece of writing is dedicated to her :) ****Here is a link to the video that inspired this story (though I have made some changes, it basically is the same) watch?v=T0iO6A3D8Xk**

* * *

Sound. Booming.

"Welcome welcome, this year we selected ourselves one courageous young man, plucked from each corner of the universe, wherever and whenever they were, for the honor of participating in the 100th annual Hunger Games."

Lights. Blinding.

Semi-circle.

Four. Standing.

One - broad shoulders. Muscled chest. Green eyes. Clenched fists.

Two – tall. Lanky. Splayed feet. Puppy dog eyes. Childish air about him.

Three – skinny. Tall. Pale. Bright blue, nervous eyes. Jet black hair.

Four – Sharp focus. Surveying. Stone carved cheek bones. Flexing fingers.

Waiting.

Watching.

"However. As it is the Hunger Games' first century and as you can see at this moment there are on four contestants. Just four. We are bringing you each a friend. So for the first day your task – keep each other alive."

Lights. Blinding.

Circle.

Eight. Standing.

Five – Tall. Muscled arms. Long hair. Sculpted chest.

Six – Awkward. Nervous quiver. Wide brown eyes. Strong determination.

Seven – Broad. Tousled blond. Tensely confident. Fierce gaze.

Eight – Small. Familiarized. Haunted. Reliably sturdy.

Watching.

Waiting.

"Five … four … three … two … one …"

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**AN - Okay - so the warnings at the start 'Graphic Depictions Of Violence' and 'Major Character Deaths'. Specifically 'Major Character Death'**  
**I know for a fact that not everyone is going to like the happenings and order of things that will now take place in this story. So if you don't like it, I won't mind if you say so...hell, send hate if you feel the need. I have mentally prepared myself, because I know that people will have differing views of things. Especially as we all love the characters so much...and trust me - I love them all dearly! Truely I do! I hate killing them off as much as you hate reading about it! So let's all try and get along :D**  
**What I think would be awesome though is if you guys tell me what you think would be the order, along with your thoughts on the idea and the chapter :)**  
**Thank you so much for reading and I hope you continue to do so :)**  
**~Fran x**


	2. Day I

"**Two Steps from Hell"  
Day I**

**Disclaimer - None of the characters from any of the shows are mine. Also the basis for the idea is mapped out from Deductism's video on youtbe :P**

**WARNINGS - 'Graphic Depictions Of Violence' and 'Major Character Deaths' hence the rating of M.**

**AN - I will be writing the chapters as 'days' so they will vary in length and who features in them, for today though we get to see everyone. Enjoy :) and please leave a review if you have the time.  
~Fran x**

* * *

Sherlock stood, surveying the scene, noticing three other unfamiliar faces doing the same.

Then the canon fired –

He stepped off the plinth, running now towards John, or at least in John's direction. The man who shouldn't be there with them, none of them should be there. The long grasses rose over his head, it was dark - growing darker as he ran further in. It was his nature to stay cool and collected, but nothing could counter the ebbing loss of control he had over his situation. He had no idea how he got there and as for where he was, that was a whole different question he couldn't answer. It was different for Sherlock, he always knew, but here…he was out of his depth.

Sherlock heard the sound of a deep, worried voice through the grasses: "SAM!"

Then it clicked, "JOHN!" he cried out, continuing to run he crashed into someone. Skinny, with sandy blond hair and a pointed nose. The man looked lost, scared that the taller man would try to pick him off the ranks now. But Sherlock, who had bigger fish to fry, turned and continued to call out for John. Finally he heard a reply, and he stopped, listening to the frantic pounding of feet on hard earth.

"Thank god!" John muttered, giving Sherlock a once over, his eyes checking for any inconsistencies, noticing that Sherlock was doing the same. "What is this place?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that we need to get out of this grass."

"Doctor!" Rory followed the Timelord at a brisk walk to keep up with the man's long strides. "We need to stop. Get our bearings." He had just found him after having bumped into another of the 'chosen', his panic at the thought he would be the first to go without the game even starting.

"No, Rory," the Doctor replied in frustration, "stop and someone will find us…or something," he added. "We need to get somewhere safe. Trust me." He straightened his bowtie, and then started to move again. Entering a dark forest of trees, the light dimmed, casting unnatural shadows on their faces.

"Please Doctor, do you have any idea why we're here?"

"If I knew I'd tell you, but in truth I'd like to know myself," he stared around nervously, "we need to find a cave of some sort. I have a feeling night will come shortly."

"You think they create the environment?"

"I know so." The Doctor looked scared, he stared round the clearing. "In here," he indicated a cave in the rock face running the edge of the forest. They both knelt looking out the entrance of the cold cave. That was all they could do for the moment, for the Doctor didn't want to consider what they would have to do to survive in the long run.

"You know so?" Rory quoted back at them, looking slightly shocked.

The Doctor sighed, "I have heard of the Hunger Games, they are an annual event some time in your future. A fight that inevitably ends in death. That was why I was so determined to get out of that grass. It's not all human in there… and it is definitely not all good."

"Really Merlin, it is not your fault," Arthur tried to calm the fretful Merlin, "we are both here now so you can't do anything about it."

"But I was here first. You're here because of me." He felt a tearing guilt, which wasn't unusual for Merlin, but this time he had brought Arthur's death to him prematurely. And from the sounds of it he would have to make a decision of who to keep alive. Merlin knew who it would be, but would the man accept it? Or would he only realise Merlin's plan before it was too late.

"Merlin." Arthur growled, "the only thing we can do is work to get out of here alive."

"Where ever 'here' is…" Merlin leant back against a tree staring back at the forest of grass, "I wonder what's on the other side?"

"Merlin no," Arthur cautioned.

"It could help…" his blue eyes shone with hope.

"Fine, but we stick together!"

"I'm serious Dean! Who the hell are these people? They can't just pluck us out of our lives and dump us here!" Sam paced the clearing of rock they stood on, high above the forest so they could try and get their bearings. So far, it wasn't proving too helpful.

"Sam, I know, calm down. It's a fight. What have we been doing all through our lives?" The question that didn't need answering. "I can get us through this."

"That's the thing though Dean! Don't you see? After tonight there is no us," he stopped pacing to face his brother, "somehow tomorrow they're splitting us up. Then we are on our own. Only one comes out alive."

Silence settled.

That was when it began to get darker. "Come on little brother, if this is going to be our first night, we better find somewhere comfy." He gave Sam a light punch on the shoulder, Dean's exterior mood was naturally calm while inside he was worried, really worried. Not for himself, but for Sam.

Night fell. Impenetrable. Unforgiving.

_BOOM._

From four places around the arena. Eight faces look up to the domed roof.

"We have given you time – time to prepare. So when you wake your friends are your enemies. Play to your strengths. When you wake you'll be alone again, every man for himself."

Images flashed up on the curved space above each pair. An identification of the contestants.

Dean Winchester.

Sam Winchester.

The Doctor.

Rory Williams.

Merlin.

Arthur Pendragon.

Sherlock Holmes.

John Watson.

"Remember: All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage - not anymore."

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**AN - So, now you have the proper list of contestants, who do you think will be first to go? What are the odds...place your bets. You never know...you may get it right.**  
**Until next time!**


	3. Day II

"**Two Steps from Hell"  
Day II**

**Disclaimer - None of the characters from any of the shows are mine. Also the basis for the idea is mapped out from Deductism's video on youtbe :P**

**WARNINGS - 'Graphic Depictions Of Violence' and 'Major Character Deaths' hence the rating of M.**

* * *

The rocks crumbled under his feet as he ran, Dean had woken to be devoid of his brother, now he was worried; he knew that night would have been the last night for him to talk to him before…

He didn't want to think about that.

Now though, he walked along the path through the woods, shadows cast on his bare arms. That was until he had heard a yell behind him, he hadn't even tuned to see what it was that had made the noise, but he knew whatever it was – it wasn't good. He felt branches pull at his arms, pinching at his skin. Then he stumbled out into a clearing. He heard panting behind him and the sound of someone stopping.

Dean spun round.

A young looking man stood there, though on closer examination of the man's eyes, to Dean he looked so much older. He was dressed in a warn tweed jacket and dark trousers, with scuffed boots and a red bowtie. His mop of brown hair flopped in front of his eyes, he looked frantic.

"Come on! Run!" he cried out.

"What the hell! Why?" Dean focused his gazed behind the man, "there's nothing there!"

"Trust me, there is, I don't know what it is but it is something – and it's not good!"

"Why the hell would I trust you…do you even know what this game is, you're not meant to help each other!"

"It doesn't matter n –" the Doctor started, but then out of the shadows Dean spotted something and suddenly the Doctor felt himself being tugged sideways as a large wolfish creature jumped into the clearing. It was large and black as the darkest ally way, its eyes were red, with bared teeth. A low growl filled the clearing as the creature's feet hit the ground.

"RUN!" the Doctor yelled, and this time, Dean didn't need telling twice. They sprinted from the clearing, back into the forest. The sound of pounding feet followed them all the way to the edge forest where they skidded to a stop.

Meters from the tree line the ground just dropped away at a cliff, down towards a rushing river of water. Dean looked back to see the wolf creature running at them, thinking quickly, "okay when I say so, jump to your right, I'll move to the left."

The Doctor nodded.

_Three, two, one, _"move!" Dean yelled, moving to his left just as the dark mass of fur barreled out of the trees and right over the cliff. A prolonged howl echoed down the valley, until once again, there was silence.

The Doctor looked over at Dean thankfully, "how'd you know that would work?" He eyed the river with a strong trepidation.

"I didn't," Dean replied simply, "I'm Dean by the way, Dean Winchester."

"The Doctor."

"Doctor what exactly?"

"No, just the Doctor," he grinned holding out his hand for Dean to shake and was surprised at the rough feel the skin had.

Dean was about to say something when, there was a loud crack and the section of cliff the Doctor was standing on crumbled away, the Doctor flung out an arm just in time to latch a hand onto the cliff face as he fell, letting out a yell of surprise. His eyes were wide with the pain of holding on, trying not to look down.

"Doctor!" Dean dived to the ground and curled his fingers round the Doctor's wrist, just in time before the latter's fingers slipped from the cliff. Feeling the Doctor's fingers on his wrist, grunting with the strain on his muscles, Dean tried to pull the Doctor up. He felt his fingers lose their grip slightly, "hold on! Just-one-second…"

"Dean," the Doctor said. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault…" the Doctor let go of Dean's wrist and let himself slip from the man's grasp and plummet towards the water.

"Doctor! DOCTORRRRRRR" Dean yelled watching in horror off the edge of the cliff as the man fell and was lost in the white wash of the water. Moments later Dean heard the sound of crumbling rock beneath him and stumbled up, retreating back into the forest. The image of the Doctor falling imprinted in the front of his mind. His last words echoing in his head. _Why though? _He asked himself, though he knew he'd never get an answer. Minutes later there was the sound of a cannon which echoed through the domed enclosure; Dean stared around in fear for a few seconds before realising the meaning of the noise.

_One man down._

O O O

Rory had woken that day to find himself curled up, back in the tall grasses again. Muttering mild curses under his breath he had stood and tried to walk a straight course out of them. By the time he got to the edge of the grass plantation, his mouth was dry and the heat of the sun was getting to him. He knew he needed water. And soon. His eyes stung from the amount of dust and the overexposure to sunlight, so finally when he made to the edge and saw the shadows of a rock face he stumbled towards it and sat leaning against it, legs aching. Eyes closed. Uneven breathing. For now this was better than his previous situation but he knew that eventually he'd need to move.

Then out of the blue there was the sound of a cannon blast. His brown eyes snapped open. _What the hell was that!?_ Every instinct told him to run but his whole body ached from battling through the grasses all day, and he couldn't bring himself to move. _What's happened to the Doctor…_he wondered, staring at the forest of tall grass which, as it grew darker, began to look increasingly sinister.

Rory had no idea how long he had sat there before out of the silence the same voice from the night before spoke again, "congratulations, you have all survived, all but one…" Then there was silence as the images of each man flashed up on the dome above.

_Dean Winchester._

_Sam Winchester._

_Rory Williams._

_Merlin._

_Arthur Pendragon._

_Sherlock Holmes._

_John Watson._

Rory couldn't move. He blinked a few times. Then reality set in, and the cold truth tore at his chest.

"No…" he muttered.

"NO!"

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**AN - This chapter was rather difficult to write, more than I thought it would have been... so I hope I did an alright job and that you don't hate me too much. (though it is highly likely you want to murder me right now...)**

**So who do you think is next? Pop your idea's in review for me if you like... (I have a list, I just want to see what you guys think...)**

**Thanks for reading :)  
~Fran xx**


	4. Day III

**"Two Steps From Hell"  
Day III**

**Disclaimer - None of the characters from any of the shows are mine. Also the basis for the idea is mapped out from Deductism's video on youtbe :P**

**WARNINGS - 'Graphic Depictions Of Violence' and 'Major Character Deaths' hence the rating of M.**

**AN - ****Okay, I have decided that I will be updating every Sunday :) it will be at various times but without fail you will get an update every Sunday :)**

* * *

Heat burned at Merlin's skin. The youth strode straight ahead, or what he thought was so, to the top of the hill, trying to get his bearings, and hoping that he may be able to find Arthur in the process. _How the hell can I protect him from here? The cabbagehead will probably get himself killed easily without me._ The small piece of familiar humour comforted him somewhat, though there was nothing remotely funny about Merlin's situation, he knew it too.

Sand underfoot.

Merlin stopped, a frown creased forehead as he looked back. Behind him lay harsh dry bush land, before it hit the field of long grass where they had started. On the horizon there was a dark line of what he guessed was a forest of trees. Returning his eyes to the front all he could see was sand.

Fiery. Red.

He tried to reach out with his magic, to see what lay ahead.

Nothing.

He couldn't feel the warmth behind his eyes that he usually felt when using it. In panic he tried again, reaching out further.

Nothing.

Fretfully, his eyes flitted over the landscape, before he stepped forward and continued to walk. One foot in front of the other. It was minutes before he realized he didn't know how much more of the blinding heat he could manage, but his determination to find the edge was over powering. A small breeze, though hot, was better than the still air of the desert. Then a stronger gust of wind hit him in the face. He brought up his arm, protecting his eyes from the sand. He waited a few moments, shaking the burning particles from his dark hair.

Blinking. Merlin finally cleared his vision. In the distance a dark orangey-red cloud billowed up, he squinted at it before his eyes grew wider; the cloud seemed to be heading for him. With a yell he began to turn, to flee the storm. But he was too late. The storm was quicker.

What felt like a sledge hammer hit him in the chest. Winded. Merlin was plucked from the ground, surrounded by a sea of red. He felt the fine grains scratch painfully at his skin. He tried to scream. No sound escaped.

Blinded.

He was thrown, like a ragdoll, from the whirlwind of fiery sand. His lanky body sailing through the air, before hitting the leafy ground with a thump.

Arms, legs, face - scratched.

Red blood leaking in beads along his pale skin.

Unmoving.

OOO

John strode through the dark shade of the forests tall trees. The conversation he'd had with Sherlock two nights ago still echoing in his head.

_ "John, you of all people should be able to get out of here alive."_

_"What Sherlock? No."_

_"You're the soldier John. Think about it." Sherlock continued to walk._

_John doubled his pace to keep up. "Think about what?"_

_"Eight contestants. Two I know won't survive long. Tweed jacket and nose guy. The dark haired guy as well, from what I could see he looked too young. The brothers, strong looking but they won't have the military experience you do. The blond, he looked confident, but like the dark haired guy too young."_

_John stopped. "Look, I know I am a soldier but I am not proud of what I did there, not all of it anyway."_

_"Play to your strengths John. Think!" Sherlock swung round. "You have the advantage over everyone. You know how to survive…so do so," he growled._

OOO

Sam pulled the slim branch from the tree in one swift movement, a crack wrenched through the silence as splinters flew through the air. He felt a sharp sting at the side of his neck as a splinter sunk into the soft skin of the arm he'd brought up to protect his face. It grew darker as he walked, pulling at the strands of wood to smooth the point, he found a sharp rock to shave away at the point more and make the handle smooth. Until he found something more suitable that would have to do.

He strode purposely through the dull green undergrowth; walking up to what he thought was the highest point of the arena. He needed to see what he was up against, after getting lost in the woods, unable to leave. That was when he'd realized the place wasn't natural; he knew he had a good sense of direction, so there must be people out there, that voice, who were controlling things. They had created a maze for him - no way out.

The impossible darkness was soon to flood the dome, the light that could filter through the canopy was thinning, and slowly it was getting harder to see. Sam squinted through the dim light, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He heard a distant rustling. Sam spun round. The partially sharpened end of the stick hit something. Something which let out a surprised yelp.

Seconds later Sam heard running feet growing steadily further away, he followed the sound. The person sped up, he mirrored them. Suddenly there was the sound of only his feet on the forest ground, Sam stopped. Trying to quiet his breathing he looked around, squinting through the dull light.

Nothing.

Sam daren't call out, the feeling that the person was using him, that any moment they'd turn the tables, gripped him and paced backwards the way he came. A few seconds later he turned and ran before the last bit of light disappeared, to leave him shrouded in darkness.

OOO

_"Tomorrow…day four, you will be brought food and water. From sunrise there will be 7 bags, each with suitable provisions, placed within the dome. At the center of the grass field you will find a platform, they will be there. Good luck."_

_Dean Winchester._

_Sam Winchester._

_Rory Williams._

_Merlin._

_Arthur Pendragon._

_Sherlock Holmes_

_John Watson._


End file.
